A few minutes later, the phone rang. Esther answered. “Hello.”
“Hello, Mom.”
“Jennifer, are you all right? I’ve been trying to call all day.”
“I’m fine. Is Peter there?”
“Yes. Do you want to speak to him?”
“In a minute. I mostly wanted to be sure he made it okay.”
“He’s fine.”
“If I’d had any idea…”
Esther noticed Prabaht gesticulating, his eyes wild again.
“It’s not so bad up here. What’s happened? Are you home?”
“Yes,” said Jennifer, “finally. There was a fire.”
“There?”
“No, a couple blocks away, but they evacuated the neighborhood. There was some looting. I believe someone was shot. They just let me come home.”
“Is everything all right?”
“It seems to be. The electricity’s still out, but things are calmed down now, and the fire’s out… or not spreading at least.”
“Good Lord!”
“Mom, would it be too much trouble if Peter stayed with you a few days—maybe even till after Thanksgiving?”
“Good heavens, Jen, you don’t have to ask!”
“I don’t want to impose.”
That’s Jennifer, Esther thought. She’d carry the world on her shoulders if it turned to silly putty. “It’s no imposition at all. He’s a pleasure to have.” And I’m not too old to want my great-grandson where he’s safe, Esther thought, but did not say in front of the boy. “Are you all right down there?” ‘Yes. And I’m not sure I could get to you,” Jennifer responded to her mother’s unvoiced suggestion. “There are roadblocks. They’ve called out the National Guard.…”
“They’re not still trying to arrest half the country, are they?” Esther asked.
“Oh, no,” said Jennifer, “except looters. They’re plenty busy now just trying to restore order.”
Whoever “they” are and whatever that means, Esther thought. “Well, it’s certainly a relief to hear your voice,” she said. “Have you heard anything from Sylvia?”
“Her boyfriend was picked up, but they released him on his own recognizance today.” “What did they charge him with?”
“That’s not real clear.”
“No, I suppose not. I'm just glad you’re safe. Here’s Peter.”
Peter told Jennifer less of his adventurous ride than he had told Esther. Esther could tell Jennifer was admonishing Peter not to impose. She doubted this was useful advice. Jennifer achieved little but to make Peter uncomfortable.
No harm done, apparently. Peter’s discomfort melted the instant he handed the phone back to Esther. “You take care,” Esther said, “and don’t worry about Peter and me. We’re just fine.”
Prabaht’s eyes flared wild, and he gnawed at his lower lip, but he had sense enough not to pester. Esther felt sorry for Prabaht’s perpetual anxiety. She knew he had at least moments of self-awareness. He had once said: “The one nice thing about paranoia is that you get so many pleasant surprises when the disasters you expect don’t happen.” “Pennsylvania Six Five Thousand,” said the tape.
Dinner was excellent. The warm leading edge of the front still made a fire unnecessary, but thick clouds reduced the moon’s light. Esther offered Prabaht the loan of a flashlight to walk home, but he said he didn’t need it.
“Just don’t fall in the creek and get your guns wet,” said Peter.
Esther sighed inwardly. What was the boy learning from his life?
When Esther woke in the morning, the house was still fairly warm, but she could see snow coming down fast and thick in the growing light. She lit the wood stove, then filled the kettle to heat. Peter appeared just as Esther finished pouring water into the paper towel/coffee filter, attracted by the aroma, she figured.
“Wow!” Peter said, “it never snows like this in Socorro! Think we’ll be snowed in?”
“I certainly wouldn’t drive in it,” Esther said. She poured them each a mug, added milk to hers and asked, “Do you want milk?”
“No, thanks,” said Peter.
“I hope you’ll drink some,” said Esther. “I can’t use up a gallon myself.”
“How about cornbread to go with the beans?” Peter picked up the mug of black coffee and carried it to the window. “Maybe I can find where the chickens are nesting in the snow.”
“If they’re laying any.”
Esther carried her coffee to her chair. Peter continued to stand at the window. “Can I call you G. E.?” Peter asked abruptly.
“G. E.?”
“For Granny Esther.”
“No. That’s awful. If you’re too big to call me Granny, just call me Esther like everyone else.”
“I’d feel funny.”
“It’s a funny world.” Esther peered over her coffee at her tall great-grandson. His face mostly looked eager.
“I’m going to see if I can find any eggs,” said Peter.
“You got gloves?”
“Nah. It’s not that cold.”
Esther didn’t reply. She was pretty sure there were some gloves that would fit him… somewhere, if the mice hadn’t gotten to them. What she did say was, “I’m going to put on some oatmeal. Want any?”
“Okay.” He slipped on his light-weight brown leather jacket and a green-and-yellow ball cap. “I’ll be back in a few.” And out he plunged into the snow.
That looks like fun, Esther thought. Maybe I’ll go out in it myself later.
She set on a pot of oatmeal and tossed in a big handful of two-year-old dried apricots. (Spring frosts had done in the blossoms this year and last.) Then she sat in her chair to contemplate. Two days in a row of Prabaht really was a little much, even without having a stroke and the world going nuts. But Peter… she was enjoying having him here, for all it was a distraction. Distraction from what? she wondered. From whatever it is I do sitting in this chair when I’m alone, she decided. Still, having a young person need her felt good. She hoped he wouldn’t be too bored between now and Thanksgiving.
The oatmeal got done; Esther turned it off. The snow fell so thick that she couldn’t see the car. A person could get lost in a hurry in a storm like this, but how lost could a person get in a canyon a hundred yards wide?
A few minutes later, Peter stomped up to the door. “I couldn’t see a thing,” he blurted. “Bet I can find them in the snow when it quits, though.”
“Good idea.” Esther handed Peter the broom. “Brush off on the porch so you don’t soak yourself and the house.”
An hour later, the snow turned to rain. It poured all day long. “Think the creek’ll flood?” Peter asked.
“Probably not,” Esther answered, “but it will come up.”
It did just that. They heard it through the rain. Peter dashed out during a lull toward late afternoon to look. He came back only moderately soggy. “Bet it’s up a foot,” he said. “Hey, what do you do about the phone bill if you can’t get out in winter for a month?”
Esther was impressed. Peter had been visiting her for longer or shorter stays all his life. He knew she kept food and propane well-stocked for just such a contingency. He really was growing up even to think of such a question.
“I usually keep a couple months credit,” Esther said. “But don’t let that give you ideas about calling all your friends.”
They both blushed, then laughed.
“It’s a local phone company,” Esther added. “If I do get behind, they’re nice about it.”
“That’s different.”
“They’re related to half the county. Would you want two hundred great-grandmothers mad at you?”
Peter gave his great-grandmother a look of horror. They both laughed again.